


Blood on the cobblestones

by Beanshiee



Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: Angst, Drama, F/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-06
Updated: 2019-04-06
Packaged: 2020-01-05 16:06:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18369416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beanshiee/pseuds/Beanshiee
Summary: Living in Birmingham is far from peaceful. Almost every day on the streets of this town there is a bloody incident, and one of them contributed to the drastic change in the life of Thomas Shelby. Another woman appears in his life - but this one is far from those he knew. This one is constantly covered in someone's blood, and wears dark, ragged clothes instead of dresses.





	Blood on the cobblestones

**Author's Note:**

> This is my very first work about Peaky Blinders. It took me a while to start writing, but finally, here it is. Constructive criticism would be very appreciated! Also, I'm not a native English speaker, so I'm sorry for some grammar mistakes. I will probably post one chapter per week. This one is quite short, but it's just the prologue. Kind of. Anyway, enjoy!

**_> > Present <<_ **

    He knew these streets like a palm of his own hand. Each alley, each nook. Every cat who crossed his path, the face of every worker, every bartender, every whore. It was his town, in every meaning. Small, dark, cramped, bathed in semi-darkness and smoke. His kingdom. A kingdom that, like any other, has its own problems and must repel the invasions of hostiles. The battles in Birmingham were short but bloody. Sometimes they were taking place in dark streets, where hardly anyone would venture at all, so the skirmishes had a minimal echo. However, it happened, though much less often, that the fighting took place in the very heart of the town, among the lights of the brightest lanterns. It would seem that the people of Birmingham got used to it and treated it as something normal. The shootings were treated with equal leniency as brawls in the bars that took place almost every day, sometimes more than once. This is how life in this town looks like. No one cares.

    Or, at least, most of the people don't.

* * *

**_ >> 8 hours earlier <<_ **

_"How much did he spend?"_   The man released a streak of cigarette smoke from between his lips, eyeing the newspaper. The young boy standing on the other side of the desk seemed a little scared. Tommy, only seemingly not paying attention to him, could easily see the trembling hands and the nervous bending of the fingers. Thomas snorted inwardly. Was he truly so terrifying for these young boys?

 _"W-well sss-sir, I'm not totally sure if issa true, but from wha' I heard, they mentioned somethin' about 4000 pounds, ss-sir."_ The boy lowered his head, as if at the mere thought of such a sum of money he began to feel dizzy. Tommy looked at him, this time with full attention. The piercing blue of his eyes seemed to overwhelm the boy even more.

 _"4000 pounds, aye?"_   The man let the air out slowly from his lungs, tapped his fingers against the desk. A large sum, especially when it comes to spending it in one moment. _"Did'ya see the person who walked out with this money? Any details? What were they wearin'? Somethin' about their face?"_

 _"W-wwell, h-he looked thin. Slim. Maybe quite tall, somewhere around your height, sss-sir."_ The young informant paused for a moment, licked his lips nervously, then continued. _"T-the clothes were dark gray, maybe black, a bit dirty and a bit ragged. Trousers, dark coat... Men's clothing, but rather loose. As he was leaving, I saw light hair coming out from under the hood and reaching somewhere here."_ He said, then pointed to his chest. Thomas slowly raised his eyebrows.

 _"A man with such long hair, huh? Are you sure t'was a man?"_   He asked politely, putting a cigarette to his mouth, in the meantime pouring himself a whiskey. The conversation with the boy harrowed him, but as long as he did his job - and he did it quite well - Tommy kept him as a spy. The informer well remembered what he saw, but he was totally unable to combine facts and draw conclusions. Fortunately, Thomas could. And the boy was from the family close to the Shelby's, so there were very small chances that he would try to do something stupid.

 _"Eeehh... I guess? I mean, I didn't heard his... Their voice, because they were really fookin quiet. So it could be a woman, yeah. But if so, then she surely wasn't a whore."_   Boy paused again, afraid to look Tommy straight in the eye. _"No one would pay 4000 pounds to a whore..."_

 _"Brilliant observation, aye."_ Tommy sighed quietly, smiling cynically at the corner of his mouth, though only for a short while. _"Anything else? Her face?"_

  _"Not really. The hood covered her face, and it's quite dark in the bakery... And she seemed to avoid the light. She sat down a bit from the side of the desk, away from the lamp."_  

 _"Was she armed? Fuck, talk about everything, kid, do not make me drag you by your fuckin' tongue."_  

    _"Ss-sorry, sir. I didn't see her carrying a gun, they didn't confiscate anything from her when she came in either. She talked with Solomons for maybe five minutes, haggled for something, she finally got the 4000 pounds and left. Alfie looked a little nervous afterwards, but w-who wouldn't be after giving to someone sooo much money, aye?... Aye..."_

Thomas tilted his head back, sighed, inhaled again. Alfie didn't belong to people who liked whores, and he certainly would not have chosen one that was dressed in dirty men clothes. Not to mention such a gigantic sum. His company was not in a good condition, especially since Sabini definitely had more power and advantage over the Jews. So what would he spend so much money on?

  _"Okay, kid, you got your payment here. Now get the fuck out, just don't drink out the whole bar in one evening, aye?"_   The boy looked at the money in front of him and took a deep breath, hiding them in his pockets with trembling hands.

  _"T-t-thank ye, boss."_   He stammered, trying to hide the excitement, then hurried out of the office. Tommy licked his lips, settling comfortably in his chair, staring at the ceiling. He heard the characteristic clatter of shoes on a small heel and sighed heavily. He couldn't have as much as ten seconds of fucking peace.

    _"Fuck, what now..."_ He murmured, not looking at Polly who just entered the office. His aunt, as she used to do, didn't ask for permission to do anything - not that she had to. She sat comfortably in the opposite seat, leaning forward to take a cigarette from Tommy's supplies, watching him for a long moment in ghastly silence, with her characteristic, enigmatic expression. It was hard to say whether it was friendly or sinister. Maybe both.

_"The boy literally jumped outside, did you buy him a car or something?"_

_"Naaah, I gave him enough money to buy himself a drink, he deserved it in exchange for a good job. Although he has goddamn sawdust in his head. Moron, but, strangely, a good spy."_   He replied, bringing the glass of whiskey to his lips.

 _"Mhm."_   She raised her eyebrows a little. _"Well, he'll probably buy a drink not only to himself, but also to everyone in the town. You're too generous, Tommy."_   Polly tapped the sole of her shoe against the floor, as if thinking about something. _"So. What did you find out?"_

    The man didn't answer, not immediately. He relished the taste of a cigarette - or rather pretended to do so. After all these years and so many packs of those damn cigarettes, he no longer felt their taste. They were not a pleasure, just an ordinary, gray part of his life. They didn't really soothe the nerves, either. They simply... Were. _"How much is my life worth, in your opinion?"_

    Polly looked at him, blinked, forgetting about her cigarette for a moment. _"Can you be more specific about what do you mean?"_

_"There is nothing to be specific about here Pol, I'm just askin' you how much you value my life, how much you would pay someone to kill me, assuming that you would want it."_

_"If I wanted to see you dead, I would have shot you myself, not buy mercenaries._ " She replied mockingly, shaking her head slightly, as if in disbelief. Thomas sighed, loud and theatrical.

_"Can you answer my fucking question?"_

    The woman released a streak of cigarette smoke from her lips, wondering. _"Five thousand eight hundred pounds."_   She finally replied, looking carefully at her interlocutor. _"Where the hell does this question come from?"_

    Thomas Shelby did not answer. Instead, he raised his head again, staring at the ceiling with a minimal smile, as if with contempt.

    _"Alfie Solomons priced me at four thousands. Cheeky bastard."_

* * *

_**> > 20 hours earlier <<** _

  _"Wanna drink?"_   Alfie watched the woman attentively, trying to read something from her face. A slight grimace appeared on his own. _"Could ye take this off... I can't see what's goin' on in ye head for fook's sake, and that makes me fookin' pissed, especially when I'm talkin' to someone."_

  _"Liqueur. And no, I will not take it off."_   She replied grumpily, settling herself comfortably on the chair. Which wasn't comfortable at all, actually. Solomons looked at her, making a long growl, signaling surprise.

_"... Liqueur?"_

_"Yes, liqueur."_

  _"An' just it? Without anythin'? Just, fookin', liqueur? To drink like a fookin' beer?"_

_"Yes."_

    Alfie muttered something under his breath and shook his head. _"Rum, whiskey, or beer in here. Look for liqueur in brothels, blondie."_

    _"Thank you then, I won't drink anything. Sit down, let's talk about business, Mr. Solomons."_   The woman stretched out her hand towards the desk lamp and moved it away to make sure that no strong light source would touch her face. The man didn't say anything, even though he wanted to. He saw only a part of her nose with a little hump on it and lips, not very wide, but not particularly narrow either. The hood covered a large part of her face, but he could see a piece of her eyes. Which were dark, contrasting with the strands of light hair stuck to the moist, apparently sweaty lower jaw and neck. The woman looked pale. Her hands were exposed - Alfie noticed the numerous, though small scars, resembling scratches left after the claws of a cat. The skin itself looked thin - purple veins beneath it. However, her hands were quite nice and feminine - rather small, with thin fingers.

 _"Before we start, I want to emphasize one importan' fact, blondie."_   The man leaned forward a bit, stroked his beard with his hand. _"It's me who is in charge here. I give the fookin' orders and I decide in how many pieces you will leave from here. If ye will behave, then ye will leave in just one. If you won't, then in two, three, twenty or a fookin' hundred, if ye will really piss me off. Got it?"_   He growled, watching her. The woman nodded slowly, and the right corner of her lips rose slightly, although somewhat mockingly.

  _"Got it, **boss.** "_  She responded, chuckling softly with some strange, effeminate even innocence, as if she were a young girl. Even though he knew that she was mocking him. He ignored it, at least this time.

    _"Alright."_   Solomons nodded approvingly. _"Business, then."_

* * *

_** >> Present <<** _

    He went out into the street and headed for the docks. First, he wanted to talk to Charlie. Second... Well, he was going to tempt the devil. He knew that he was being hunted. Alfie was a mean bastard, he should have expected that. He pissed on every deal they had. Worthless ally.

    Thomas inhaled with a cigarette and licked his lips, following his usual pace - quite fast, but not nervous at the same time. He could not afford to spread such aura. No, not when he was who he was. King of Birmingham. Dirty, dark, cramped Birmingham.

    He turned to the right, observing carefully, though unobtrusively passed people. Same familiar faces, no one new, no strangers, no one raising special suspicions. Tommy kept walking ahead, seeing a cat black as raven's feathers in his path, stretching lazily in the middle of the road. The man did not stop. He knew that the cat would give in to him and run away.

    Five meters. Three. Two. Half.

    The cat didn't move, instead looked at him and bristled fur. Green, furious eyes stuck to him, watching him with pure hatred. White fangs glistened in the semi-darkness as the animal made a loud, warning hiss. 

_"Get the fuck outta my way."_

    Tommy didn't stop, instead he kicked the animal, wanting to push it aside. The cat mewed, hissed, and then jumped on the man's leg, thrusting razor-sharp claws into it, scratching the material on his pantleg. The man swore, then kicked the cat again, this time much harder, throwing him sideways, straight between several barrels set against the wall. The cat hissed again, but let off another attempt to attack, making the right decision to stay in place and reconcile with the failure.

    Shelby kept going, approaching the docks. He turned right again, ignoring the burning wounds left by the goddamn  animal.

    His attention was drawn by a sudden flash and then a rustle. The instincts of the soldier worked - Thomas with one agile movement pulled out the pistol and unbolted it at the moment when the attacker's knife touched the body. The goal was to be the heart - but his arm blocked the way, forcing the knife to rebound. The skin on the forearm was cut, but it was nothing compared to what might have happened.

    Shot. Not with his weapon, though.

 _"GET ON THE FOOKIN' GROUND, YOU CUNT!"_ Arthur's roar screamed through the city. The bullet hit the target - damaging the right collarbone, but not killing the attacker. The woman hissed like an angry viper, grabbing the wounded place, still holding the knife in her hand. Thomas sighed and brutally stepped on her hand, forcing her to let go of the weapon. She growled again, pulling out a smaller knife - a penknife, trying to cut his wrist. Again, she only managed to barely hit the skin before the weapon was brutally torn from her hand. She felt a kick in the stomach that made her fall on her back. She took a deep breath as the gunshot wound spoke with a huge pain, gritting her teeth with all her might, hearing the blood rushing at her temples. The man who kicked her also appeared out of nowhere. Third brother? 

 _"Out-fucking-standing."_   She growled, then felt someone pull the hood off her head. She saw a pair of frighteningly bright blue eyes, literally tearing at her body. It felt like this one look gave her more pain than the bullet that was now in her collarbone.

 _"We have a lot to discuss."_   Thomas said, looking at her for a long moment, watching her chest rise and fall with each heavy breath. He could see drops of sweat running down her neck, messy, blond hair sticking to her skin. Brown, large eyes, of which he could not read anything - he saw neither fear nor hatred. Only frightening, freezing neutrality. _"A lot to fucking discuss."_

    Her would-be victim got up, then pulled out and lit a cigarette, as if nothing happened.

    Then someone's fist came in contact with her occiput.

_Out-fucking-standing, indeed._


End file.
